Solona 1 - Meeting Her Templar
by Teency Hawk
Summary: Solona Amell and Cullen Rutherford's first meeting. Prequel to Her Broken Templar


"I said, _wake up!_ "

She shivered as her fluffy blanket was ripped from her iron grasps, letting out a frustrated growl. The chilly air of the Kinloch Hold wasted no time before it dug its icy claws into her slender limbs, and Solona sent sparks of tiny fire to dance over her naked skin.

"Go away, Jowan. I'm trying to sleep!" She complained, knowing her friend had summoned a barrier spell to protect himself even without looking. Solona was famous for being the grumpiest mage in the tower during the early morning hours. It was thanks to her tempers in the mornings why Jowan had mastered the barrier spells so quickly. She curled up into a tight ball while trying to reach for her covers with her hands. Goosebumps rose up along her porcelain skin at the constant chill in the air.

"And I've been trying to wake you for the past five minutes! Really, if you wore clothes to bed it wouldn't be this difficult to get you out in the mornings!" Jowan wrestled her blankets further away from her reaching fingers warily, watching her fiery sparks dance around her. Solona knew Jowan was right, but the extra fabric her robes provided around the legs between her thick covers and the bed sheets often annoyed her, keeping her awake well into the night. Perhaps if she wore some tunics it would be better, but she didn't own any clothing other than her standard apprentice robes. And considering that she lived in the Circle of Magi, nobody really cared about seeing her naked. Not when there _was_ no privacy to be breached in the first place.

"Jowan, I was up reading late last night. Go _away!_ "

"First Enchanter is looking for you. Now." He tugged at her, attempting to roll her out of the ball she curled into.

"My lessons with him are tomorrow. I won't fall for that again."

"Not your lessons. Ser Greagoir was with him."

At that Solona bolted upright, extinguishing the dancing flames on her flesh.

"The Knight-Commander _and_ the First Enchanter wants to see me?" She blinked, watching Jowan pulling down his own barriers.

"Hence me trying to rip you out of your bed."

"Well why didn't you say so from the start?" She cursed, leaping out of her bed and digging through her small chest for a clean robe. "How late am I?"

"A few minutes?" He shrugged, stepping close and tying her messy curls up into a tight ponytail. She thanked him while shoving her arms through the thick robe.

"Did they say why they wanted me?" She pulled her head through the collar, cursing yet again as a few errant strands of hair got caught by the buttons. She wrenched at the thick cotton until her hair gave.

"No, but I suggest that you run. Tell me all about it afterwards?"

And run she did, all the way up to the First Enchanter's office.

"*~*"

Solona stood before the huge wooden door, raising her small white hand to knock against the smooth polished door. She rapped it lightly, listening to the sharp knocks resound through the tall ceiling. She was very familiar to it now, after spending years of her childhood here.

"Come in, child." Came the familiar gravelly voice. Without a second of hesitance she pushed against the heavy door, making it creak open and closing it behind her.

"Irving, Ser Greagoir." She bowed to the two elder man who were standing inside the room. As usual her mentor stood calmly, looking serene with twinkling eyes and thick grey beard. The Knight Commander on the other hand was pacing the small length of the room, irritation clearly marking his ever-present frown. And she noticed there was a third Templar as well, though this one was standing quietly in the corner of the room with his helm on. But her attention snapped back to the Knight Commander as he spoke.

"You're late, mage Amell." He scowled towards her, and she sighed inwardly.

"My apologies, Ser Greagoir. It is still somewhat early." She shifted her eyes to the small slit of the window in the room, looking out to the still-dark sky. She was usually asleep at this hour. Solona resisted the urge to rub at her tired eyes, feeling the fatigue lurking there.

"Another late night in the library, am I right?" Ser Greagoir snapped, and this time she did flinch.

She was an apprentice, and as a young apprentice who wasn't a full-fledged mage she did not have access to the libraries during the night hours. She went anyway last night, as she often did after her standard lessons with other mage tutors. She was usually careful enough not to get caught by the Templars, but last night she'd been so exhausted that she fell asleep on the horrid chair. Ser Hadley had found her there, folded in on the small wooden chair with a book over her chest. He'd threatened her with the Sunburst lyrium brand to send her scurrying to her apprentice quarters. She'd hoped the Knight-Captain hadn't reported her late-night excursion, but apparently he did.

She wisely held her tongue as her mentor stepped in to shield her from the worst of the reprimands.

"The girl was studying. You cannot fault her for wishing to learn more, Greagoir."

"And you are too lenient, Irving! She broke the rules, again! Don't think I don't know how she bends the rules here and there to get her way!"

Ser Greagoir glared at her past the First Enchanter, and she tried to look as small as she felt. Did he also find out about her talking to beautiful Ser Annlise and cheerful Ser Beval?

"She's far too friendly with my Templars."

Oops. Yes, yes Greagoir did know. She cursed inwardly, reminding herself to apologize to the two Templars later on and to give them some distance for next few weeks.

"Being polite to Templars is not against the rules." Irving reminded him, though Greagoir did not stop scowling.

"I'm sorry, Ser Greagoir. I just wished to hear what the sea was like, and none of the mages knew. I won't bother them again ser. But they were off duty, ser. They shouldn't be punished for lack of vigilance during their off duty hours."

"See to it that you don't. I'll be keeping my eyes on you." Greagoir snapped, whirling around to face her. But Solona sighed out in relief. The man was always gruff and stern, but he wasn't unreasonable. Beval and Annlise most likely weren't going to be punished for talking to her. She vowed to be more careful next time.

"Was that all, sers?" She asked, wondering if she would have enough time to get back to her bed before the breakfast.

"No, child. There is something more we wished to discuss." Irving beckoned for her to come closer, and she did. His big hand came to rest on her shoulder as he stared into her eyes kindly.

"Your tutors as well as I have noticed a remarkable growth in your magic during the past month, child. You've noticed this yourself too, girl?"

She nodded wordlessly, wondering where this was going.

"Your sudden growth spurt, so to speak, has become somewhat of a concern to a few people." Irving spoke carefully, his voice calm and steady.

"It's dangerous. We have never seen something like this before. You were more powerful than most enchanters before, and yet your magic is expanding at an alarming rate. You are too dangerous." Greagoir cut in sharply, and Solona started to feel real terror gripping at her heart.

No, they couldn't. They _couldn't!_ Could they? Could they make her a Tranquil for her unexplained power surges?

"No, no wait. I'm not a blood mage. I'm not practicing blood magic. I swear upon the Maker and His Holy Bride, I've done nothing to increase my powers! Please, I'm not a blood mage! You can't make me Tranquil. You can't!"

Irving's hand over her shoulder tightened, and she brought her eyes over to him before flickering it back to the Knight Commander. She tried to control her trembling hands.

"While that seems like the most reasonable explanation, we have no proof that you've been practicing the blood art." Greagoir grumbled, crossing his arms before him. Solona held her breath, watching him warily.

"And even Greagoir knows better than to accuse you of the blood art, child. He knows you too well to make such ludicrous claims." Irving patted her, his soft gravelly voice comforting. His eyes sparkled with quiet mirth and Solona finally relaxed. Irving wouldn't look so if she was about to be branded with lyrium.

"So I won't be made Tranquil?" She breathed, the air rushing out all at once.

"No, child." Irving smiled, though Greagoir (predictably) scowled. "At least not yet." He added with a growl, at which Irving simply rolled his eyes.

"Oh." She blinked, watching the room spin as sharp relief washed over her. "Oh, okay."

"But, you are still dangerous." Greagoir stabbed a finger towards her, as if to stop her from relaxing too far.

"We had theorized that your incredible amount of power meant that your full magical potential was released early on, child. That was what we believed, which made sense since you were so much more powerful than the other apprentices your age." Irving went on to explain as if Greagoir hadn't spoken at all. It was an exchange between them she was all too familiar with, and resisted the smile that tugged at her lips.

"But since you've hit puberty your magic has been expending at incredible rate. It is not unheard of, child. It is actually more the norm for a mage to develop and mature their magical talents just like their growing bodies. The only real concern here is that your power is maturing too fast."

Solona swallowed nervously. "Am I going to be put in solitary then?"

"No, at least not yet." Greagoir beckoned at the Templar standing at the corner of the room, and she finally remembered the other Templar's presence. The new Templar came willingly with long strides and removed his helm. He tucked it under his arm, swiping a hand through his curls and stood at attention.

"This is Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford, a new Knight that just joined our ranks." Greagoir motioned.

The new Templar was young – very young. Youngest among the current Templars stationed at the Kinloch Hold for sure. She guessed him to be at around her own age. Sixteen? Eighteen? He couldn't be possibly older than eighteen. His hair was very blond and very, _very_ curly. He was a handsome one, with sharp nose and a strong jaw. And his eyes were golden, just like his curly hair, which crinkled softly with gentle kindness she could see.

"And as you've heard, this here is mage Solona Amell, First Enchanter's apprentice."

She inclined her head hesitantly, wondering what Greagoir was up to. It was unheard of for a Templar to announce themselves to the mages.

"As discussed, she is to be your charge." Greagoir went on.

"Understood, ser." Ser Cullen spoke, his young voice full of enthusiasm.

"What? Wait, what?" She looked to the golden boy, before staring bewildered at her mentor. "What's going on?"

"Ser Cullen is a very promising Knight, having graduated with top marks from the Order's recruits. He is to watch over you day and night, at least until your power surges stabilize. We feel that with a constant pair of eyes on you there will be minimal chance of anything hazardous happening."

"Starting as of this moment, I don't ever want to see you two separated from each other." Greagoir snapped.

Solona gaped openly.

"How is he going to eat? Sleep?" She asked, appalled. "There's no way other mages and apprentices would accept him to eat with them. And if he's going to watch me constantly, how is he going to get any sleep of his own?"

"You two will dine separately from others if need be. And while you sleep, he will too. The night guards will be warned to be particularly vigilant of you, and once you wake you will either go find him, or he will be there to find you. You two will make an effort to make this work. Cullen, you are not to let her out of your sight. Ever." Greagoir stubbornly set his jaw.

The new Templar nodded, while she looked over to Irving for confirmation.

"It is only temporary, child. Until your magic stabilizes."

It was better than being made Tranquil. Was she not under Templar scrutiny daily anyway? Nothing really changed with this. It was actually the best possible outcome.

"I understand, Irving." She smiled a little, letting him know she did in fact, understand.

"Go then, child. I will see you two tomorrow for our normal lessons." Irving smiled, approval shining in his eyes.

Solona bowed and left the office, and the new Templar followed.

* * *

Cullen watched the little girl walking in front of him, following wherever she was going at the moment. She'd seemed completely surprised by what his Knight Commander had proposed earlier in the room – and frankly Cullen was rather stunned that she didn't object to him completely invading her privacy. But she walked on ahead of him now, head cocked and furtive glances darting over her shoulders as she watched him.

His mage. The thought was a little strange to him. His first mage, Solona Amell. A powerful young mage he was to stand vigilant over.

But the girl walking in front of him seemed like none of those things. He'd been mesmerized by her the moment she walked into the First Enchanter's office.

Her tousled black hair that was gathered hastily into a ponytail glittered in the wavering lamplights, and her dark eyes were simply beautiful. Her full lips quirked easily, even when she didn't seem aware of it. She seemed to bite on it often, and he could imagine them curving into a soft smile.

Her porcelain skin also made her seem fragile, a little girl who couldn't harm a single thing. He wondered if she called for help when spiders skittered across the tower's walls.

"Mage Amell?" He called, stopping her dead in her tracks. She turned around with a bewildered look, her midnight eyes wide and sparkling.

"I… I apologize in advance for breaching your privacy. I do hope you won't begrudge me too much for it – I will try to give you what room I can." He smiled, sticking his hand out for her to shake. She simply stared at him with an open mouth.

"Or… not? Did I say something wrong? I'm always saying something wrong, or doing something I shouldn't. Was I not supposed to say that?" He asked, his voice faltering a little when she did not respond.

"No, no, not at all!" Her voice lilted, as she seemed to mentally shake herself out of the stupor. Her voice seemed to sing a little, he noticed. Like the song in his veins now, sang by the blue lyrium. He could feel her magic singing in tune with her voice, with his lyrium.

Her dark eyes darted around the hallway nervously, before she reached out to grasp his hand and give it a firm shake. Her hand was tiny, easily dwarfed by his gauntleted hand. But the firm shake she gave him was felt even through the armor.

"I was simply surprised, Ser Cullen. The Templars usually do not speak to the mages. Nor do mages speak to the Templars." She whispered, drawing her hand out of his grasp. He didn't quite want to let go, but he did.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm new to the Order. I didn't realize." He shuffled, rubbing awkwardly at his neck. Maker's breath, he was already breaking rules and he'd been here only for a few hours.

"No, it's fine. I just don't want to get you into trouble." She smiled, flashing a brilliant grin towards him. He could feel his thoughts skidding off course at that, and had to forcibly wrestle them back into place.

"I… uh, oh." He said.

"Don't worry about the privacy thing. There really is absolutely none anyway in the Circle. You're not taking away much." She shrugged easily, the gentle smile staying on her soft lips. "Rather, I'm more worried that you got assigned the most boring job in the entire Circle, Ser Cullen. You have to watch me amble about from class to class, day and night!"

"It could be worse." He muttered, thankful that he was set to watch this bright pretty girl than some grumpy old enchanter. He then flushed crimson as he realized he said those words out loud. Maker, what was wrong with him?

"Could it? I suppose it could be. Standing by the solitary rooms has got to be more boring than watching me throw fireballs, right?" She giggled, thankfully failing to notice where exactly his thoughts had tripped off to. "I won't hit you, at least not on purpose." She winked mischievously, and he swallowed.

Maybe stopping to talk with her wasn't the best idea. He was making a fool of himself.

"Right." He let out, unable to think of anything smart to say.

"Are you alright, Ser Cullen? You seem a little bit sick." She stepped a little closer, peering intently at him and he had to crush the sudden urge to bolt, rubbing furiously at his neck.

"The trip here… the boat ride did not sit well with me. Strong winds." He griped about, looking at anywhere but her sparkling eyes, dark yet so expressive. Much more passionate than any eyes he's seen.

"Oh! Well I can help with that. You should have mentioned that sooner!" She smiled, stepping up and hovering her hands over his chest.

She was casting. Andraste preserve him, this mage was casting spells.

Before he could move away, or even Smite her, he felt a pleasant buzzing wash through his limbs. An aquatic green glow spread over his armored body, wiping away the last lingering fatigue from his limbs. He blinked in surprise as her spell faded away, feeling incredibly lighter.

"Whenever you don't feel good, let me know. It's no trouble, really. But don't tell anybody I did that though." She whispered conspiratorially before stepping away, seemingly innocent.

"Okay." He grinned back, unable to help himself. Her jovial smile was infectious.

"Well, gallant Ser Knight! Shall we head off and face the Kinloch Hold together? I imagine we'd make quite a pair." She laughed, sweeping into a low bow with a kind smile and a hearty laugh.

"Of course, Mage Amell. Do lead on." He saluted her in response, laughing as well. He was going to enjoy this first assignment so very much.


End file.
